Starvation
by SophieRomanoff
Summary: Natasha has been missing for nine weeks, when Clint manages to track her down. They find her unconscious, nearly starved to death, her organs failing. Will they get her to a hospital before her heart stops forever? Day 15 of prompt challenge


Hey everyone, welcome to day 15! Tw for starvation, duh that's the title, and just kinds everything that goes with that.

STARVATION

It had taken nine, long, gruelling weeks to find Natasha.

She had gone missing on one of her first solo missions in years, and it had taken them that long to question and get answers out of anyone they thought could be involved.

Eventually, they had gotten a whereabouts and Clint, Coulson, Hill and a whole hellicarrier full of other agents were on their way to the location. Even Melinda May had been pulled off desk duty for this one mission.

They had no idea what they find, if the compound would be swarming in agents or if they would be faced with one, crazed individual. They had no idea if Natasha was even alive, because it had been such a long time.

The higher ups didn't usually agree to rescue missions for one agent, but Clint and Phil had demanded they agree or they would go alone. Fury had immediately been on board, and had forgone the meetings and bullshit and sent them straight there.

Now, walking into the building, Clint could feel the stirrings of fear he'd pushed down for months. It was highly unlikely that she was still alive, or that there would be enough of her to bring back.

He didn't care, he would fine her and he would bring her home, whether that was on a stretcher in a body bag.

She would be coming home.

They found the compound nearly empty, just a couple of guards on look out. It was clear they hadn't been expecting anyone to come for her.

As they were dispatched, Hill and May attacked the computer system, getting every single piece of information, encrypted or not, into hard drives.

Coulson, Clint and a few others searched the place for Natasha.

They found her in the second to last room, one man standing beside her. He grinned at them as they entered, swivelling around. "She said you would come. I didn't believe it but it is good to see you. You can admire my work now, you can see my experiments and the effects they've had on her before she dies." His eyes lit up. "And she hadn't got long left." He tutted, pointing to where a machine was attached to her, her vitals on screen.

Her oxygen was plummeting below fifty, her blood pressure almost none existent as her fast and erratic pulse filled the room.

Clint stepped forward and silently drew his gun up, firing twice into the man, uncaring as he collapsed to the ground and coughed around the blood filling his lungs.

He rushed over to Natasha, Phil at his side as he crashed to his knees next to her.

There was a thin blanket covering her and he pulled it back to get a better look at her injuries.

What he found, had his vision swimming and bile rising in his throat.

She was unconscious, but not peacefully so by any means. Her brows ere furrowed and her hands lay on her stomach.

She was so thin, skeletal. Each bone looked ready to pop from her skin as his eyes trailed down her body. Her ribs were pressing against her skin, dark bruises there just from the pressure.

Her hair was dry as he pushed it from her forehead in an attempt to rouse her.

Her cheekbones were prominent, her cheeks sunken in where they were usually round. Dark bruises lay under her eyes and over most of her skin.

He gently took her hand from her stomach, swollen and bloated under her fingertips. He pressed his fingers to her pulse point, not trusting the machine.

"Her heart is struggling, I don't know if she'll make it to Shield." He exhaled, glancing over at Coulson.

"I'll contact the nearest Shield hospital and tell them to expect us." He swallowed hard and dragged his gaze from his agents form.

Clint spent the next thirty seconds trying to wake her, gently rolling onto her side as her breathing visibly worsened. As he touched the bottom of her back, she whimpered lowly and he realised the skin there was warm, whilst the rest of her was verging on hypothermia.

He jerked his hand away, taking in each visible vertebra down her spine. "Her kidneys, I think, are failing." He said quietly, abnormally calm. He knew later he would break down completely but now, he had to get her to a hospital.

"I'm sorry." He whispered as he pulled the wires from where they stuck against the sharp slope of her collarbones and trying to miss the bottom of her back, he lifted her to his chest.

Her head lolled with her, a soft gurgling sound emitting from her throat. Her lips were cracked and bleeding, a startling shade of blue. As he tucked her arms against her body, he noticed the tips of her fingers were purple.

Coulson radioed to the hospital and they met the two women in the hallways.

Melinda swore and covered her mouth; Hill looked like she was going to throw up to, her face stricken.

"Is she…?"

"She's alive, barely; we need to get to the hospital. May, can you get us there fast?" Clint asked, watching as the woman nodded. They were instantly moving to the quinjet, Natasha's breathing getting worse and worse with each step.

They had medics waiting but this was beyond what they could treat.

They attached monitors, reading her vitals and swathing her in blankets. It took five minutes for them to find a vein to insert an IV into, and glucose and saline began pumping into her veins. All they could do was wait for them touch down, and keep monitoring her.

Ten minutes into the flight, the machine to Clint's left began screeching and he stumbled back, eyes wide as he took in the sight of the flat line sounding throughout the jet.

"No-" He gasped, finding Phil's hand and squeezing hard.

Maria stepped towards them, looking unsure. Clint silently took her hand too and they stood, the three of them in a line, watching as they compressed her chest and sent shocks through her body.

"Please, Natasha, please don't leave me. Don't leave me." Clint whispered, squeezing his friends hands so tightly he cut off the blood for a moment.

They didn't care, all three of them stricken and downright terrified.

"Please, Tasha, please. You can't leave me, you can't-" He choked, shaking his head.

The heart monitor slowly began to settle, her pulse still dangerously low and erratic, but her heart was beating nonetheless.

Feeling dizzy, Clint sank down to his knees, hastily scrubbing his eyes with his hands.

Later, he told himself, later you can cry.

The journey was agonising for all involved, Natasha's heart stopping twice more before they touched down, having made record time thanks to Melinda's skilled flying.

She was rushed away from them and the three agents found themselves slumped over in the waiting room. They sat close together, not touching, but taking comfort from one another.

One hour turned to two, turned to four until finally a doctor came out to speak to them.

His tone was grave and it sent Clint's heart racing. "Is she…?" He gasped out.

"She's alive." The doctor started carefully. "But…it's really not clear whether she's going to pull through."

Clint could feel his world crashing around him.

"What do you mean?" Phil snapped, his hand on Clint's wrist.

"I mean…she coded three times whilst we tried to stabilise her. Her kidneys have shut down and her liver is well on its way. Her heart is struggling quite drastically, and she isn't breathing on her own. We intubated and started dialysis for her kidneys, because of the breathing tube; we had to insert a feeding tube straight through her stomach. She's got constant glucose and nutrients being pumped into her, and she's hypothermic. The circulation to her hands and feet was cut off for a while, and we had to remove two of her toes and some of a finger. The circulation is improving, but that's not what I'm worried about. Her heart has been under such immense stress, that we had to…we had to put in a temporary pacemaker, just to try and control the beats. She's been put into an induced coma, and I'm sorry, but there's no way of knowing if she'll ever wake up."

Clint could feel his legs give way and he crashed to his knees, his breathing ragged and tears on his cheeks.

Coulson thanked the doctor and ushered him away, both him and Maria silently lifting Clint up and dragging him over to a chair.

Maria ordered someone to get them some water, as she settled in between his knees on the floor. Coulson sat beside him, placing Clint's hand against his chest.

"Breathe, Barton." He commanded, his free hand rubbing against his sternum.

"Deep breaths, in and out." He murmured as Maria trickled water onto the sleeve of her cat suit and touched the back of his neck and pulse points with it.

Slowly, Clint regained control of his breathing and lifted his head, his voice hoarse when he spoke.

"I can't lose her. I don't care what Shield says, I don't care how unhealthy it is, I can't lose her." He whispered. "I love her, Phil, I love her so fucking much."

Coulson nodded, his hand on the back of his neck. "I know, Clint, I know. I wish I could say it was going to be okay, but I can't."

"I need to see her. If…if she dies, I have to be there." He murmured, pushing himself to his feet.

"Of course." Maria murmured, touching his jaw. "Go sit with her, we'll be right out here."

…

Days passed, turning into weeks. Clint was a constant at Natasha's side, Phil and Maria often with him.

The doctor's words turned from grave to hopefully as he vitals got better, and her body stronger.

They were able to take the breathing tube out, just oxygen up her nose now. They had begun to taper the drugs away, and it seemed likely that she would wake up soon.

That was how, two weeks after Clint had found her almost starved to death, she woke with him at her side.

The next few months would be brutal. From taking out the feeding tube and giving her liquid food, moving onto solids later on. From the agonising pain of being starved and her organs shutting down, to having the pacemaker removed and their tentative steps to rehabilitate her. Physical therapy, psych trips. The fear when she would throw up whatever she'd eaten, the panic of having a new feeding tube shoved through her nose and down her throat until she was ready to eat again. Dialysis when her kidneys showed signs of shutting down again, the pain of anyone touching her skin. The realisation she had had some extremities amputated. The mental anguish of her limitations, nightmares and flashbacks of slowly being starved to death.

It was going to be a long, painful road but Clint would be by her side the entire time, Phil and Maria a constant beside them.

Clint would revel in being able to tell her he loved her, and the joy of hearing those words back.

They would make it through this.

They always did.


End file.
